From Insane Prices to Condo vs Duplex vs Townhouse Confusion: I Can’t Even Anymore
Okay, so… it’s Jessica. Yeah, that realtor who’s always yakking about houses. Look, I gotta vent or I’m gonna lose it. This Wichita market? It’s… I don’t even know anymore.
I Swear, This Market is Out to Get Me
So yesterday, right? I’m showing this house. Total fixer-upper. We walk in and… you’re not gonna believe this. There’s a line! For a house that looks like it’s held together by duct tape and prayers. I mean, what the…? And the prices? Oh my god. Had this couple look at a place last week. They see the number and the wife goes, “Jessica, honey, is this in pesos?” I wish, Karen. I really freakin’ wish.
Everyone’s Lost Their Minds, I Swear
You wanna know what’s really making me question my life choices? I’ve got people calling me at midnight asking about real estate rates 2024. Like, seriously? I can barely predict what I’m having for breakfast, let alone interest rates next year. And don’t even get me started on the sellers. Had this guy… I swear I’m not making this up… wanted to list his treehouse. His treehouse! Said he saw some fancy luxury homes in Kansas online and figured his kid’s treehouse was basically the same thing. I nearly spit out my coffee.
I’m Seriously Considering a Career Change
Look, if you’re crazy enough to buy in this circus, here’s my advice: Get your money lined up like, yesterday. Be ready to jump on anything that doesn’t have actual mushrooms growing in the bathroom. And maybe, just maybe, look at some weird options. Heck, I’ve even got folks asking about Kansas City industrial property for sale. I mean, who says you can’t live in a warehouse, right? Open concept taken to the extreme, I guess. I’m telling ya, I’m running on fumes and false hope at this point. This market’s got me stress-eating gas station burritos at 3 AM and seriously thinking about a career change. Maybe something less stressful. Like, I dunno, bomb disposal or something. If you need me, I’ll be the one in the wrinkled blazer, talking to myself in the Dillons parking lot. Probably crying into a slice of pizza. Or laughing maniacally. These days, it’s a real toss-up. Hang in there, Wichita. We’re all losing our minds together. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with a bottle of wine and my pillow. Gonna scream into one and drink the other. I’ll let you guess which is which.
